


Wish

by falsteloj



Category: Young Dracula
Genre: Genderswap, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 06:23:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsteloj/pseuds/falsteloj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because every fandom needs a genderswap fic...</p><p>(I have a ton more YD stuff - you can find story summaries, etc, by clicking <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/27201609">HERE</a>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wish

"Oi, Branagh!" Price yelled from the classroom doorway, Mr. Perkins having disappeared to do whatever it was he disappeared to do. "Tell your boyfriend Jenkins wants to see him after school."

"He's not my boyfriend," Robin scowled back, muttering "why don't you tell him yourself?" under his breath. Vlad cringed, keeping his gaze fixed steadily on his terrible artwork. He was sure if anyone saw his face they would be able to see the crushing despair the fact inspired in him.

Price looked from one to the other, grinning at having received the anticipated response. "Aw, had a falling out 'ave you? Not man enough for him?" There was a lot of sniggering and Vlad risked a glance in Robin's direction. His expression was murderous.

"I'm not gay!" Robin ground out.

"Whatever you say," Price smirked, nodding at his friends. "Count, don't forget. Rugby practice, be there." With that he disappeared, doubtless ready to spend the next ten minutes loitering before returning to his own lesson in time for the bell.

"Just ignore him," Vlad whispered after a moment, Robin having thrown down his pencil and scowling into the middle distance. "He doesn't know what he's talking about."

"It just," Robin snatched up the pencil, pressing it viciously against the paper in front of him, "does my head in. Why would I ever look at you that way?" He tried to lighten the mood, "Not when you've got a sister like Ingrid!"

Vlad swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat and looked away. Why indeed?

* * *

"Vladdy!" The Count exclaimed the instant he was through the door, still streaked with mud and aching all over. Robin had been right about rugby. "My favourite child!"

Ingrid sneered over at them both but didn't comment. The Count put a hand on his shoulder and steered him over to the dining table, pushing him into a chair with a stack of books were teetering on the tabletop in front of him.

"Vampire lore," The Count said, slamming a hand on the pile and sending them crashing down. A pained expression crossed his face as he waited for the movement – and accompanying noise – to stop. "Vampire lore," he started again.

"Is something Vlad knows nothing about," Ingrid cut in. "He doesn't even know who the first Head of the Council was."

"I do," Vlad protested, "It was, er-" His mind was blank, he pushed thoughts of Chamberlain away. "It'll come to me. Anyway," he snapped, "that's history, not," he hooked his fingers in the air, "vampire lore."

Ingrid smiled and shrugged, "But they're on the same paper."

Vlad scowled. To the Count he said, "Do we have to start today? I need to work on my English coursework."

"Vlad," the Count said, cupping his chin in one cool hand, "You won't need English when you're the Grand High Vampire. Now," he picked up one heavy tome that looked as thick as his head, voice dropping dangerously, "Get on with it!"

* * *

"It's so unfair!" He complained to Zoltan later that evening. "I don't want to learn about stupid vampire lore!" His head was aching from trying to decipher the elaborate medieval script. His legs and back were aching from rugby training. His eyes were aching with the effort to stay awake and get it done. It just wasn't fair.

"But you will need it when you are the Grand High Vampire, Master Vlad," Zoltan told him in his infuriatingly calm tone.

"I don't want to be the stupid Grand High Vampire either!" Vlad protested. He didn't. All he wanted was to be a normal teenage boy. With a dad who didn't spend his nights feasting on the blood of still living livestock, and a sister who didn't threaten to drive a stake through his heart every time he so much as breathed in her presence.

And, most of all, a best friend who didn't only want to spend time with him because he was destined to turn into one of the undead. He amended that in his head, a best friend who wanted to spend time with him because he felt the same way about him as he felt about them.

He scrubbed at his eyes angrily, telling himself to get a grip. Robin had made it abundantly clear – over and over again – that  _that_  was never going to happen. Zoltan eyed him up curiously and Vlad sighed. "None of it's sinking in."

"Perhaps you should try reading it aloud?" Zoltan suggested. Vlad thought he had heard worse ideas.

"Whilst in Maracanda, lately Samarkand," he stumbled over the unfamiliar words, "I heard a curious tale from the natives. Given to credulity, such as would be unfitting in even the humblest of hovels of our own kingdom, they told of the, er," he stared down at the squiggles on the page in confusion. Finally he went on, choosing to ignore it, "They believe that dark forces can manifest, the vampire state created by the intensely evil desires of the inner," there were more squiggles and Vlad frowned in frustration.

It wasn't making any more sense than it had in his head.

"By ritual appeal to this inner," he shrugged, "thingy the natural body may be changed. Prolonged life or unnatural strength may be attained. Such is the vanity of old wives' tales."

Underneath there were more squiggles, set out in what looked like a poem. Under that there was, he presumed, a phonetic guide to pronouncing them. Somebody had scrawled enthusiastically in the margin 'For dreams bring nightmares to the fore.' He peered closer at the looped script and wondered if Ingrid had done it.

She didn't know how good she had it, he thought bitterly. She was free to do everything he'd ever dreamed of, could literally have everything he wanted at the snap of her fingers – Robin's lack of tact on that front never got any easier to deal with – but all she could do was complain.

"Like the genie and the lamp," Zoltan said when it was clear Vlad wasn't going to do more than murmur the awkward sounding words to himself, "the granting of a wish."

Vlad snorted, slamming the book shut and putting it on his nightstand. He couldn't take any more of it. "Do you know what I'd wish for?" He said, tone more vicious than usual, mind still fixated on the unfairness of his lot in life. On Robin's earlier words. Zoltan just waited for elaboration. Vlad reached for the light switch,

"I'd wish I was a girl."

His mood wasn't much improved when he woke up the next morning. He scrubbed at his eyes and decided not to bother getting dressed until after breakfast. He glanced at his alarm clock; Robin wouldn't be up for hours yet anyway, not on a Saturday.

The Count and Ingrid were both at the table when he made his way downstairs. He was surprised at the lack of snide comments from Ingrid as he slid into an empty seat, reaching for the cereal box and pouring a bowlful. He had managed to add milk and take a mouthful before it surpassed the realm of the unusual into the creepy.

He looked up to see Ingrid's eyes wide, his Dad gaping openly. "What?" He asked slowly, glancing from one to the other, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Ingrid passed over her press powder compact, the one with the mirror she now used for nothing more than checking out how many people were admiring her, remaining totally silent. Vlad hesitated for a moment before looking into it. What he saw made him drop it to the table with numb fingers, the fragile glass cracking in its case.

Renfield chose that moment to emerge from the kitchens, shrieking and dropping the Count's breakfast to the flagstone floor with a clatter.

"Master! There's another one!"

* * *

"How could this have happened!" The Count demanded angrily, then pressing a hand to his forehead in grief. "My son and heir, robbed from me!"

"I'm not dead!" Vlad protested, getting up from his bed to pace. "There has to be some way to turn it back, right?"

He looked to Ingrid, hoping desperately for confirmation. Ingrid looked up from the book – the stupid cursed book – and smiled sweetly. "But you make such a pretty little girl, why would you want to go back to being you?"

"Ingrid," he jabbed a finger at her, hysteria rising, "this is not funny! I can't stay like this." He gestured down at himself, grimacing as he caught sight of himself in his mirror. His pyjamas were clinging in all sorts of places they shouldn't, the angle of his jaw had softened, and his hands looked smaller somehow. Daintier. He felt like he was about to start hyperventilating.

"What have I done to deserve this?" The Count wailed, staring intently at the shuttered window, "To be forever burdened with daughters? Have I not always strove to be evil and bloodthirsty? Cruel and selfish?"

"Dad," Vlad started, embarrassed to feel the sting of unshed tears in his eyes. "I'm still the same person."

"I can't look at you," the Count said, expression pained, disappearing from the room.

Ingrid slammed the book shut and dropped it onto his bed, smirking.

"Welcome to my world."

* * *

Vlad stood on the Branaghs' doorstep, waiting anxiously for someone to come to the door. He was wearing the baggiest jumper he could find, hair combed down in an attempt to hide his face. In spite of it all he still looked like a girl, the reflection staring back at him from the panes of glass in the door was that of a stranger.

Mrs. Branagh pulled open the door, "Oh, hello." She looked him up and down, the slightest hint of a frown knitting her brows as she tried to place who he was. "Are you here for Chloe?"

Vlad bit at his lip, fighting the urge to just freak out. "Is Robin in please?"

Mrs. Branagh's smile changed, beaming brightly as she assessed him up as potential girlfriend material and he squirmed uncomfortably. "Robin!" She called, "There's a girl here to see you!"

"To see Robin!" He heard Ian's voice, "As if!"

"Out the way Mam," Paul said, manoeuvring his way round her in the narrow hallway. "She must be knocking for us."

Paul looked at him in shock for an instant, and then a grin curled across his face. Ian was smiling at him from over his brother's shoulder. "I'm Paul," he pointed at himself.

"And I'm Ian," Ian nodded.

"Nice to meet you," Paul went on. Vlad looked at his feet as the other boy's gaze raked him up and down. He felt sick.

Finally Robin pushed between the two of them, frowning at him for a long moment. Then his jaw dropped. "Vlad!"

"I need your help, Robin," Vlad pleaded once he'd explained what had happened. Robin was still gaping, had done nothing but gape as he'd hastily lied and told Mrs. Branagh he was his own cousin Mira, visiting from Romania. As he had all but dragged Robin up the stairs and into his bedroom.

There was no answer.

"We need to find a way to reverse it. There must be a way. I need you to help me find it."

Robin was still silent, gaze trailing up and down and Vlad crossed his arms over his chest self-consciously. "'Ave –" Robin swallowed and started again, "You're really a girl then? You've got the-" His gaze lowered again.

"Robin," Vlad hissed, jabbing a finger at his own cheek, "My face is here!"

"Yeah," Robin said slowly, making an obvious effort to focus on his face and not on his treacherous body. "Yeah," He repeated, dropping to sit on his bed, all the while staring at Vlad in wonderment.

Vlad sat down awkwardly next to him, wishing Robin would give him that sort of look when he was himself. He was so stupid. If he had known it would work he could have wished for Robin to like him back. Could have wished to be human! He didn't want to dwell on the order in which the two thoughts had occurred to him.

"So will you help me?" He asked quietly.

Robin stared at him for a moment longer before visibly pulling himself together. "Yeah, course." He broke out into a huge grin, lecherous gaze dropping once more, "You're so lucky, Vlad. All the best stuff happens to you!"

"Yeah," Vlad shook his head, turning away, "My life just can't get any better."

* * *

"Dad," Vlad started quietly, "I finished the essay for you." He held out the vampire lore essay he had been reading the book for, trying not to look at the way his handwriting was different to usual, the press of pen fainter and the angle altered.

The Count put a hand up to his face, palm outwards, turning his gaze away. "You'll have no use of it now," he said in a maudlin tone. "No girl has ever sat on the Council."

"But I'm not a girl!" His voice was a near yell, his temper seeming much closer to the surface than before. He wondered absently if this was why Ingrid was so volatile.

"You look like a girl to me," Ingrid said, grinning all across her face. He'd never seen her look as happy as she had that weekend, not since Will's death at least. "Just think of what all your little breather friends are going to say tomorrow," she crowed.

Vlad felt the blood drain from his face. School, he had to go to school.

"Just face it, Vlad, or should that be Vladimira?" She shrugged, "There is nothing you can do. You might as well just accept it and do something about your hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?" Vlad asked in paranoia, patting at it. It felt weirdly fine and soft.

"What's right with it?" Ingrid retorted. She sidled in closer, pitching her next comment for his ears alone, "Branagh won't be impressed."

"Why would I care what Robin thinks about it?" He asked, tone nervous.

Ingrid just straightened up. "If you change your mind," she smirked, "you know where I am."

* * *

Vlad did change his mind. Back and forth, over and over again, as he lay tossing and turning. If he went to school, then it would be like accepting it. That it had really happened to him. But, what would he do otherwise. Stay at home for weeks and weeks, searching fruitlessly for a counter-curse until it was too late and he was battling it out in the blood mirror room?

Ingrid's words kept going round and round in his mind. He had seen the way Robin had looked at him in his bedroom. Had caught the admiring glances the other boy had snuck his way when they were working in the library that afternoon. As Vlad he would never have a chance, he knew.

But, maybe, as Mira, Robin could come to love him back.

* * *

"What are you doing!" Vlad exclaimed, hand flying to his eye at the sudden stab of pain.

Ingrid growled, "Just keep still."

"You're trying to blind me!" He accused, eyeing up the weird brush thing in her hand.

"Tell me, why am I bothering again?" Ingrid muttered under her breath, wrenching his hand away and attacking his eye again. This time it didn't jab him in the eye and she moved from one to the other, before rifling through the largest box of make-up he had ever seen. And he had seen their mother's.

"Do I really have to wear this?" He asked plaintively as she fussed with his hair. "I feel like an idiot."

"That's because you are an idiot," Ingrid said distractedly.

"Yeah, but at least normally," he gave her a pointed look, "I'm not an idiot in a skirt."

"Boys like girls in short skirts," she said simply.

"I don't."

Ingrid sneered at him, a look that told him he was testing her patience, "You don't like girls."

He supposed he couldn't really argue with that.

"And now it doesn't matter," she smiled, stepping back to admire her handiwork, "because you are a girl."

Vlad got up and peered curiously into the mirror on her dressing table. He didn't recognise himself. At all. He prodded carefully at the artificial colour in his cheeks and the powder around his eyes. It was exactly the sort of thing Robin went mad over. And Ingrid knew it.

He turned to face her, frowning. "Why are you doing this? Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I don't do nice."

He sighed, "Just answer the question."

Ingrid hesitated for a moment, seemingly weighing up her options, before speaking, "All my life I've been second best. Before you were even born I was just a girl, surplus to requirements. Just an unfortunate mishap on the quest for a son and heir." Her tone was dark and dangerous, laced with years of pent up resentment.

"But," her tone lightened, the barest hint of a smile on her lips, "now, all that's going to change. I'm the eldest." She really smiled then, the expression transforming her face. "I'm going to inherit the title, the castle, everything!"

She shrugged, "If all you want is Branagh, I won't begrudge you it."

Vlad swallowed, the speech having unnerved him. Forcefully he pushed the feeling away. He'd find a way to reverse it. And, if he didn't… he gave his sister one last backwards glance, hauling his book bag to one shoulder. Ingrid was more than capable.

* * *

"Mira!" Mrs. Branagh smiled in recognition, turning to call, "Robin!"

Chloe eyed him up curiously as she made her way out of the door. Vlad blushed and looked away from her searching gaze. He'd begged Robin not to tell anyone. As far as everyone else was concerned he was conducting an exchange visit to Romania.

Before Chloe could make any connection Robin was barging through the door, still shrugging into his coat, a piece of toast clamped between his teeth. When he saw him he opened his mouth and it fell to the floor.

"Vlad?"

He suddenly felt very stupid. "Yeah, I know, I look like an idiot."

Robin gaped, eyes raking up his legs, past the skirt, lingering at his chest, taking in the way Ingrid's old school uniform accentuated the changes the curse had effected in his body.

Vlad watched as Robin bit at his lip, the other boy deliberately fixing his gaze on Vlad's face. Robin's voice was rough as he said, "Come on, we're going to be late."

He couldn't help but feel smug. Robin had never once, in all the time he'd known him, had to resort to pretending to care about being late for school.

* * *

"So, Mira, is it?" Richard Price said, perching on the edge of his desk. Watson and Davis, Price's cronies were gathered around, as was Jonno Van Helsing and his group of geeky prefects. "It looks like Romania got the rough deal in this exchange."

Davis sniggered and Vlad glared at him.

"If you need someone to show you around," Jonno said breathlessly, "don't hesitate to ask me."

"Or me." There was a chorus of voices around him.

Vlad looked away, feeling uneasy. What was taking Robin so long? Now was not the time for him to spend half hour in the bathroom admiring himself in the mirror!

"Don't be a dick, Van Helstinks," Price sneered. "She's not going to want to spend any time with you." He leaned in closer. The only time he had ever been this close to Price before, Vlad reflected, was when the bigger boy had him up against the changing room wall by his neck, threatening to break his nose. "I'm free this evening," Price raised an eyebrow, "If you know what I mean."

"You don't want him," Watson cut in. "I'll show you how the Welsh 'ave a good time."

Vlad felt faintly ill. Spotting the sight of Robin's familiar leather jacket in the doorway, Vlad made a hasty decision. He hoped Robin wouldn't be too upset about it.

"I'd love to," he lied, plastering a false smile on his face, "but I already have a boyfriend."

"Back in Romania?" Davis asked, looking disappointed.

He shook his head, glancing up as Robin dropped down into the seat next to him; He dared to touch a hand to Robin's arm, "Here."

* * *

"Vlad!" Robin hissed as the bell finally sounded for lunch and they could speak, "What were you thinking? Has it made you lose your mind too!"

"I just wanted them to leave me alone," Vlad said contritely. "It's not like you have to do anything." Robin looked at him at that, a strangely intense expression on his face. Vlad realised suddenly how close they were, how his heart was beating at super speed in his chest.

At least he didn't have to try to hide his usual reaction to Robin's proximity, he thought dimly, skin burning with the desire to just reach out and touch Robin. To kiss him.

And, then, Robin was pulling away, flushing red in embarrassment. "This is just too weird, Vlad." He shook his head, putting more space between them, "If you could see yourself-" his voice was shaky, "If you knew what it was doing to-" He cut himself off abruptly. "Let's just get some lunch, yeah?"

Vlad nodded and followed, although it was a good few minutes before his heart rate resumed its normal state.

Their last lesson was games and Vlad trailed behind Robin without thinking. The cheer that went up in the changing room soon reminded him of the situation however.

"Wahey!" Davis called.

Price smirked, "Take 'em off!"

"Boys!" Jenkins barked, expression completely changing as he turned to him. "You must be Mira?" He said, "You shouldn't be in here." Jenkins put an overly familiar hand on the small of his back, steering him from the room and over to the entrance to the girls' changing room. The hand lingered and Vlad grimaced, ducking through the door as quickly as he could.

The girls were right, Jenkins was a perv.

Once inside nerves hit him full force. He could probably be locked up if it got out who he really was, he thought anxiously.

"Delila," Delila introduced herself, looking him up and down before smiling again. "You can come and join us."

"Oh, er, thanks," he stuttered, trying to keep his gaze on the floor, just in case. He dropped his kit bag to the bench, awkwardly clambering into Ingrid's gym kit. The clasp of the gym skirt confounded him and he struggled with it clumsily. He had finally managed to get it done up when he realised someone was speaking to him.

"So, like, oh my God," Kelsey Peterson started, one hand on her hip, "are you really going out with Robin Branagh?"

He nodded tentatively.

"I told you so," Kelsey said to the other three girls hanging around her.

Delila frowned, "What do you see in Branagh? He's such a minger."

"No, he's not!" The words were more heated than he had intended and he blushed.

"No accounting for taste," Stacey Darner said, shaking her head.

"Must run in the genes," Delila sniggered in a whisper not meant for his ears. "Count won't be happy when he gets back." There was muffled giggling and Vlad wished he could be anywhere else.

"Hey," Delila said suddenly, taking in his expression, "it's nothing against you. It's just," she pulled a face, " _Branagh_."

Stacey smiled at him, "Don't listen to a word she says, she fancies Tommo Watson."

"No, I don't!" Delila's blush said otherwise.

Stacey winked at him and he couldn't help but smile back. As they trailed out to the netball courts, the other girls discussing how best they could get out of breaking a sweat – surprisingly similar to Robin's usual games conversation – Vlad felt like he had passed some sort of initiation ritual.

* * *

Life quickly settled into a routine, as bizarre as the whole situation still seemed every time he stopped to think about it. He went to school and stuck like glue to Robin's side, whenever he could, inwardly thrilling every time he caught Robin watching him. Which was a lot.

At home Robin helped him scour the library for a counter-curse. The Count moped about despondently, spending days at a time in his coffin. At first he tried to talk to him but, after being told to go away for the fortieth time, got Ingrid to teach him how to use her pastes and brushes and powder instead.

Sometimes he had bouts of panic and spent hours holed up in the library, straining his eyes in the candlelight, desperately searching for a solution. At other times he felt like he could hardly care less if he never found one. These were invariably times when Robin was around, sneaking furtive glances at him and blushing whenever he was caught out.

It was one such time three weeks after he had first read the book. They were sat on Vlad's bed, books propped in their laps. The silence was thick with tension and when Vlad looked up it was to find Robin staring openly at him.

"Robin?" He managed to get out, although it was little more than a whisper. He was impressed with that, given the way Robin's dark brown eyes were fixed on him. His heart was pounding against his ribcage, his skin tingling under the intense regard.

His book slid to the floor, Robin dumping his own to the bed as he moved closer, pressing trembling fingers to his cheek before kissing him. His hands flew to Robin's hair, curling in it as Robin angled his head, deepening the kiss until all Vlad could do was clutch on to him and try and follow his lead.

Robin's other hand trailed down his side, the touch feeling amazing and wrong at the same time, following the alien contours of this body that wasn't quite his. Robin didn't seem to notice however, pushing him back and kissing him deeper still. He moved so he was straddling him, hands pushing up under the blouse Ingrid had given him and tracing soft patterns across his bare skin.

He could feel how turned on Robin was, excitement coursing through him at the fact. He clutched Robin closer, surging up against him as Robin moved lower, sucking wetly at his neck. He writhed under the touch, wishing he was himself, wishing he could guide Robin's hand and fulfil all the messy fantasies he'd been having about him.

He settled for groaning Robin's name, twisting his fingers tighter in Robin's shirt as he sucked harder against the skin of his throat. Robin moved against him, eyes clenching shut, his name falling from his lips, "Vlad."

"Oh, God. Vlad." It took a moment to process the change in tone, although it was helped along by the way Robin scrambled off of him, hand pressed to his mouth, eyes wild. "I'm so sorry, Vlad. Oh, God." He could see that Robin was shaking and he reached a hand out to him. Robin jerked away violently.

"I have to- I shouldn't – Oh my God."

Robin gave him one last horrified look before bolting from the room, the sound of the great door slamming reverberating through the castle.

Vlad couldn't believe he had been so monumentally stupid.

* * *

It was dark when the knock came on his door, and he was reasonably certain his eyes had returned to normal. Although his pillow was still covered in black smears where he had sobbed into it.

"Vlad?" It was Ingrid. He sat up wearily, breath heavy and slow from the crying. "Are you in here?"

"Yeah," he replied and Ingrid snapped her fingers, all his snuffed candles sputtering into life. He took one look at her pale face and asked, "What's happened?"

"It's dad, the Council," she shook her head, uncharacteristically struggling for words. "Just come with me."

Vlad followed Ingrid down their narrow staircase, into the Great Hall. There were three official looking vampires waiting, the Count on his knees, head bowed, between them.

"So it is true?" The eldest looking vampire sneered. "This is what has become of the dignity of the Dracula dynasty."

Ingrid caught his eyes and made a scrubbing motion at her cheek. Vlad got the idea and smeared his hand across his own cheek; it came back black with make-up. That done, he took a deep breath. "You've no right to hold him. You need the authority of the Grand High Vampire." He stood up straighter, "Me." Because he was, technically.

"Don't be ridiculous," the second vampire laughed. "Who would submit to the authority of a woman?" He could see Ingrid balling her hands into fists at her side.

"You'll just have to get used to it," he said. If it wasn't him they ended up taking orders from, it would be Ingrid. He was sure of it.

"Unlicensed use of curses in a residential area," the third vampire shook his head, reading from the scroll in his hand. "Aiding and abetting an appropriation of the Crown from its rightful owner."

"I am its rightful owner!" Vlad protested as Ingrid was cuffed, struggling and snarling, and pushed to her knees next to the Count.

"We are acting on the authority of the minority Council," the eldest spoke again. "You have three days to contest the decision." Before he had chance to ask anything else there was the sound of rushing air and all five had disappeared.

* * *

"Mira, dear, are you alright?" Mrs. Branagh asked, tone concerned when she opened the door. Vlad nodded, in spite of the trembling in his fingers.

"I need to see Robin."

"Okay." Mrs. Branagh had barely finished the word by the time he was on the landing, banging against Robin's bedroom door.

Robin opened it cautiously, eyeing him up with a fearful gaze.

"There's no time to talk about it now," he said, putting a hand up to stop Robin talking, "we have to find a way to reverse it. And fast."

He paused for a moment, glancing down the corridor. "We're going to need extra help."

* * *

"I can't believe you were so stupid," Chloe said, scouring through a heavy tome.

"Trust me," he snapped, careful to keep his voice quiet enough to prevent Robin from hearing on the other side of the library, "there's nothing you can say about me that I haven't already thought of myself."

He threw the book in his hands down onto the table in frustration. He was never going to find anything. And Robin was having no luck finding a legal loophole. That's what he had told Chloe anyway, refusing to be within ten feet of him. He scrubbed his hands across his face and spent a moment just feeling sorry for himself.

"Where is the original cantation?" Chloe asked, interrupting it. At his blank look she sighed, "the words you said to do this."

"Oh," he rooted through the pile of books thrown haphazardly on the table and handed her the one that had started the whole sorry affair. Chloe flicked through it, quickly finding the offending page.

She 'hmm'ed and 'tutt'ed as she scanned it, then glared up at him. "You really are an idiot," she jabbed a finger at the notation in the margin, "there is even a warning against it."

"Sorry if I don't speak riddle," Vlad scowled, feeling on edge.

"Don't you get it, Vlad? 'For dreams bring nightmares to the fore.'" She explained impatiently, "Be careful what you wish for? Nothing can be solved that way." She scanned the page again, then held the book out to him. "It's very simple."

"Well it is now!" He conceded, wondering why they were wasting time on some useless graffiti.

"Say it backwards, and it will be undone." She went on, oblivious to his gaping, "You're lucky one more day and you would have been stuck like it forever. I don't know why you didn't just bring it to me in the first place."

Vlad flung his arms around her, "Thank you!"

* * *

It felt like hot knives ripping into his flesh. Or, at least, how he imagined hot knives ripping into his flesh would feel. His legs gave way and he was dimly aware of someone supporting him, lowering him carefully, and stroking at his hair as he flailed in pain.

When he finally managed to get his eyes open he was surprised to find he was lying on his own bed, Robin on the floor against it. His head was resting against the mattress, his hand curled loosely in his own. Vlad swallowed, not entirely sure he wanted to move and lose the moment forever.

Fate was never on his side. Robin opened his eyes, huge and almost black in the dim light, but he didn't let go of his hand. "Vlad?" He croaked, voice roughened with sleep.

"What happened?"

"I thought you were dying," Robin said quietly, looking away. "You were screaming and screaming."

Vlad tightened his grip on Robin's hand in reassurance. "Hey, I'm okay."

Robin nodded, although he still looked shaken up. "The Council people came back; they said they'll release them," he hooked the fingers of his free hand in the air, "at the hour before dawn as is our honoured custom and tradition." He offered Vlad a wan smile, "They couldn't really argue once they'd got a look at you."

Vlad patted his free hand down his side in sudden realisation. It had worked. It had really worked! He looked back at Robin and the happiness fled. It would be so much harder now. Now that he knew what Robin tasted like, the feel of Robin's teeth worrying at his bottom lip.

"I'm really sorry about earlier," he forced out, not able to look Robin in the eye, "I should have stopped you." He didn't need to ask Robin if he knew how he felt about him; the look in Robin's eyes told him he was well aware of Vlad's feelings.

Robin shifted to sit on the bed, facing Vlad, their hands still entwined. "I really  _really_  fancied you Vlad," he started awkwardly. Vlad shut his eyes, not wanting to face what was coming. Robin went on, "I couldn't stop thinking about you, couldn't stop looking at you. Earlier," he cleared his throat, "I've never felt like that before. I-"

He hesitated, seemingly searching for the right words, "But then it hit me. I was kissing _you_ and it was all wrong."

Vlad screwed up his face, pressing the heel of his free hand into his eyes viciously, mortified at the hot tears he could feel trickling down his face.

"Vlad," Robin sounded worried, "Vlad, don't cry." Robin's arms wrapped around him and he could do nothing but sob harder. Robin's hand curled in his hair, stroking it. "Please don't cry."

He clutched his fingers into the material of Robin's shirt tighter, throat too choked up to form words.

"I just couldn't keep doing it," Robin started babbling, "because it was you but it wasn't. I realised I didn't want to be kissing some half-version of you. I don't want a girlfriend." He pushed Vlad back slightly then, to look at his face. "I want you."

Vlad scarcely had time to process the words before Robin was kissing him again, soft and tender this time. When he pulled away Robin looked at him nervously, and Vlad realised he was waiting for his answer. His verdict.

"Robin," he grinned, even though his eyelashes were still full of tears, "Kiss me again."

Robin beamed in relief and complied.

* * *

_Epilogue._

"What do you want?" Ingrid asked viciously, not turning to look at him.

"I-" he hesitated, not sure how Ingrid would react, "I want you to have this."

Ingrid looked up at him then and snatched the envelope from his hands. She frowned hit tore it open, unfolding the documents within.

She stared up at him in shock. "You're signing over your inheritance to me?"

He nodded, shifting a little under her close scrutiny. "I don't need it. I've got what I wanted." He smiled slightly, thinking of Robin. "I can't help that I'm the Grand High Vampire," he went on quietly, "but I promise that, when I stand on the Council, I'll change things."

Ingrid gave him a searching look before a smile broke across her face, the same one he had seen that day she had said she'd help him, and he smiled back.

"Dad will even have to make an effort now. Or he'll end up homeless when I turn sixteen."

Ingrid grinned wider,

"I never thought I'd say this but, sometimes, you're almost bearable."

"Thanks, Sis."

They both laughed and, he thought happily, sometimes you didn't need black magic for wishes to come true.

**Author's Note:**

> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


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